Alert
by Eveningbreeze of SkyClan
Summary: A plane transporting three arrested criminals and three officers disappears from the skies.... Rated T for violence and offensive language.
1. Sky is Falling

**Alert**

_Due to my writer's block on Runaways, I decided to start another story. Don't worry, I'll finish Runaways once the block's gone. Until then..._

**Chapter 1- The Sky is Coming Down**

Officer Richard Guitierrez was staring out the window of the plane at the night sky, trying to stay awake. He was on what one of the other officers on the plane, Charles Davenport, called "babysitting duty", looking after the three 'passengers' in the back of the plane. There was an unusually tall vixen dressed in a black cloak and jeans, who was wanted for murder; some raccoon guy, a thief; and an eighteen-year-old ferret girl, who had been selling stolen cars.

Guitierrez was twenty-six, a wolf, and one of the best officers in his detachment. When he had gotten the job a few years ago, he hadn't known about the fact that he'd have to be on 10-hour shifts, and having to be stuck in a plane with fat slobs like Davenport. The long hours had made him extremely tired and atypically irritable.

He looked back at the three handcuffed criminals in the back of the plane. The raccoon guy was sleeping; the ferret was looking out the window, trying not to fall asleep; and the vixen was staring right at him.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, annoyed.

"You're on three hour shifts, correct?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You've been out here for the last three and a half hours."

"Oh." Guitierrez wondered why she knew this. He got up, and went into the second compartment, where there were two bunk beds built into the walls. Davenport was sprawled on the bottom bunk of the right one, and the officer that had arrested the raccoon was on the top bunk on the left. As far away from Charley as possible.

He went over to Charley and tapped his shoulder. "Hey Charley. Your turn."

He groaned. "Already?"

"Yes."

"Fuck." Charley heaved himself off the bunk. Guitierrez moved to the side to let the overweight wolf by.

Davenport nodded at the vixen officer sleeping on the top bunk. "She looks friggin' hot, don't she? Nice ass."

"Charley..."

"What? I'm right." With that he left, slamming the door.

As Guitierrez climbed up to his bunk above where Charley had been sleeping, he heard the vixen mutter, "Fat idiot."

He looked over his shoulder at her. "Got that right."

--------

As soon as Guitierrez had left the back of the plane, Katie Levine turned away from the window and started searching the locker under the seat he had been sitting on.

The vixen behind her remained seated. "What are you doing?" she asked. Emotionless.

"Looking for my stuff. MP3 player." Katie mumbled back.

"Do you see anything in there like a weapon? A cane? Or scythe?"

Katie ducked her head inside the locker. "There's a cane."

"Pass it here."

Katie slid the cane across the floor to the cloaked vixen. She slipped it under her robe.

Katie had found her knapsack, and had gotten her MP3 out of the side pocket. She closed the locker, went back to where she had been sitting by the window, and heard someone behind the door to the compartment, swearing.

The door swung open, clanging against the wall, and Davenport stumbled in. Apparently, he wasn't completely awake.

He sat down on the seat where Guitierrez had been, and hit a button on the small intercom pad on the wall next to him.

One of the pilots' voices came out of it. "Yeah?"

Charley grumbled, "Where the hell are we?"

"Right over the Gulf of Mexico. We'll be another, um, four hours until we land."

Charley turned the intercom off. Katie heard him mutter, "Another four hours? _Fuck._"

She just ignored him, and turned up the volume on her MP3.

--------

On an island below the plane's flight path, a gunner was waiting in the small outpost tower he'd been living in for the last two weeks, waiting for an order.

He wasn't disappointed.

He picked up the ringing cell phone, flipped it open. "Yes?"

The gravelly voice on the other end said simply, "Get rid of 'em."

The gunner, named Jon Bolden, nodded, said, "Sure." He flipped the phone shut, aimed the AA turret at the plane.

--------

Guitierrez had nearly fallen asleep when he heard a strange popping, rattling sound from outside the plane. He blinked, shook his head, trying to wake himself up. Then there was a loud _boom _from the engine on the right wing, and all he saw was black.

--------

Bolden watched as the plane's right wing exploded, the aircraft spiraling straight down. He heard the sound of crunching, twisting metal, breaking glass, then the night was silent.

His cell phone went off. "Yes?"

The gravelly voice said, "Good job Bolden. You've got a pay raise coming." The line went dead.

Bolden grinned, went back to watching the skies.

_And that's the first chapter. _


	2. Island

Alert

_Thank you to Heiduska and Eternity's End for reviewing. Here's Ch 2. Hope you people like it, or else I'm out of a job._

**Chapter 2- Island**

Tony Pacossi slowly woke up. He'd been knocked out, thrown clear of the plane, when it had first hit the ground. He'd been one of the two pilots in the plane, along with Jon Varner.

Tony heard the soft, rhythmic sound of waves on a beach. He opened one eye.

He was lying, floating more like, in a shallow lagoon. Ahead of him was a pale beach, which stopped at a solid wall of foliage and trees. The only reason he hadn't drowned in four feet of water was that his head was resting on a ragged chunk of metal. Part of the plane's wing.

Tony started to move, and felt a sharp pain in his leg. There was a gash running down his leg, blood mingling with the water.

He tried to stand again, limped his way out of the lagoon, onto the sandy beach. He saw the cockpit of the plane sticking out among broken trees, the splintered wood holding the aircraft up. The cockpit looked smashed in.

Tony walked under the ruined plane, avoiding all the debris on the ground. Broken glass, twisted metal, severed wires, sparking dangerously. A pillow from one of the bunk beds. A backpack, one pocket zipped open, spilling its contents onto the ground. A small MP3 player. A small knife.

He picked the tiny blade off the ground. _How the hell... _he thought, pocketing it. Tony continued going.

He got to the end of the plane.

And stared.

The entire back compartment of the aircraft was missing. The section that had the criminals. Gone.

He heard a banging coming from the second compartment. Someone was knocking on the wall. And yelling something in Spanish.

_Oh jeez, not her. _The female cop who'd brought one of the lawbreakers had exploded when Davenport had made an 'unwanted' comment about her. Punched him in the face. The fat wolf had deserved it, but still...

He climbed up onto one of the broken trees, and started inching up the trunk towards the plane. The door dividing the second and third sections was still intact. And locked.

_At least I've got a key. _

--------

Davenport had gotten up from where he'd been laying, sprawled out on the ground, unconscious. Knocked out, whatever. When the plane had split in half, he'd been sucked out by the wind. Same thing with the criminals in the back. _With any luck they're dead_, he thought

Limping and swearing, he started walking towards a piece of wreckage. Hopefully there was something actually useful scattered somewhere.

--------

Scott Brewster was working his shift in the gun tower where Bolden had shot down that police plane. When he had heard Bolden brag about it the first time, Brewster congratulated him. Now, Brewster thought that it had been one stupid move. Someone was probably going to come looking for the remnants of the aircraft. And find their operation.

Brewster was twenty-six, and he had a Masters degree in Oceanography. The tan-furred ferret had been recruited for his knowledge of the ocean, and more specifically, the ocean floor. He was being paid handsomely, too. All the more reason to help.

He frowned when he heard footsteps upstairs. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else there. He left his desk, started up the stairs.

There was a gunshot, and his body came tumbling back down, coming to rest on the floor, where the bullet wound in his forehead made a spreading pool of crimson blood.

A tall, yellow-furred vixen dressed in a long black cloak stepped over the body, left the room, a small pistol gripped in one hand.

_And that's the end of Chapter 2. I'd enjoy a few more reviews this time. :p_


End file.
